


Observation and Obloquy

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (Season 6B)
Genre: Community: dw_straybunnies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, Jamie, Victoria and Zoë are dispatched to attend a peace conference, as rumours start to circulate of a monster devouring the delegates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Admiring the View

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a prompt on [dw_straybunnies](http://dw-straybunnies.livejournal.com): '[Victoria & Zoë somehow get to share an adventure with the Doctor & Jamie.](http://dw-straybunnies.livejournal.com/51451.html)' 
> 
> This is set in the same general continuity as my previous Zoë-and-Victoria fic, [Genius and Geniality](http://archiveofourown.org/works/893945).

"I accuse Colonel Mustard," Jamie said. "In the library, with the lead pipe." 

He picked up the envelope which held the solution to the mystery, peered at the cards within it, then laid them triumphantly on the surface of the board. 

"It doesnae make much sense," he added. "I was playing Colonel Mustard. How wouldn't I know I'd done it?" 

"Well, it's a rather simple game," Zoë said. "You can't expect it to be a perfect simulation of a murder mystery. If it was a detective story, perhaps the Colonel would be a sleeper agent for the East Bloc. He'd do the murder under the control of a brain implant and then forget about it. And then he'd investigate the case and discover that he had to be the one that did it." 

"Or perhaps he knew all along," Victoria suggested. "But he joined in the investigation to divert suspicion. And then, when he realised that Miss Scarlett might be convicted, he gave himself up to save her. What do you think, Doctor?" 

The Doctor laid his cards down on the table. "I think you're all giving the question far more thought that it really—" he began, and broke off as a slight tremor shook the room. "But that'll have to wait. I think we're wanted." 

All four made for the console room at the best speed they could. The Time Rotor was in motion, but apart from that everything looked as normal. The Doctor hurried across to the console. 

"We're definitely in flight," he said. "Yes, these coordinates look familiar. I think we may be heading for Marinus." 

"Oh, aye?" Jamie said. "And what kind of a world's that, then?" 

"Well, that rather depends what part of it we land on. And when in its history, of course." 

"But you've been there before?" 

"Yes, Jamie, I have." 

"And how many times did they try to kill you?" Jamie asked, with the triumphant expression of a barrister rounding on an unprepared witness. 

"Now, really, Jamie, there's no call to make that kind of assumption. We met some very nice, helpful people..." 

"Was it more than three?" Zoë asked. 

"Well, really, it's difficult to..." The Doctor looked down at the console again. "Four, I think. Hello," he added, sounding relieved at the prospect of a distraction. "What have we here?" 

A small stack of pasteboard rectangles had appeared on one corner of the console, shimmering into existence without any fuss. The Doctor's companions gathered round him as he picked the cards up and flicked through them. 

"Doctor Smith, of Riparia. Observer status. Captain McCrimmon, of Riparia. Observer status." He handed a card to Jamie. "The honourable Miss Victoria Waterfield, of Riparia. Consort status. And... Zoë Heriot, servant status." 

"Servant status?" Zoë repeated, taking the card. It was made of fairly thick pasteboard, and bore several punched holes at one end. 

"It would seem that you are to pose as my lady's maid," Victoria said. 

"But I don't know how to be a lady's maid!" Zoë paused, considering the problem. "Maybe there's a manual in the library. I'll go and look. Do you know how long before we land?" 

"A couple of hours, maybe." 

"That should be enough time. I'd better get started straight away." 

⁂

When Victoria and Zoë returned to the console room, the Time Rotor was still moving, and there was no sign that the TARDIS was any closer to its destination. Victoria was now wearing an elaborate layered dress with puffed sleeves, and her hair was done up in a gem-studded topknot. Zoë, by contrast, was clad in a severely plain blue-grey dress, and carrying two heavy carpet bags. These she set down on the floor. 

"I hope we land near where we should be," Victoria said. "Walking would not be easy in these shoes." 

"At least I get to wear something practical." Zoë did a twirl, spreading her hands wide. "I wonder why they — whoever 'they' are — chose me to be the maid, not you." 

"Perhaps because of your tendency to speak your mind. Pertness may not be desirable in a maid, but it is at least accepted. Not so in a lady." 

Further conversation was forestalled by the arrival of Jamie, who crept into the room looking embarassed. He was rewarded by a double gasp. 

"You look so different with that moustache," Victoria said. "Doesn't he look different, Zoë?" 

"I think he looks very silly," Zoë said. "Why are you wearing a false moustache, anyway, Jamie?" 

Jamie shuffled his spurred boots. "The Doctor said it was very fashionable." 

"Well, at least you're in trousers." Zoë cast a critical eye over Jamie's gold-frogged jacket, fur-edged pelisse and gleaming white breeches, and found her eye drawn to the area of his waist. "Those look very tight." 

"They are," Jamie said. 

"However did you get them..." Victoria began, and stopped as an idea sprung into her mind. "Jamie! It was you who took the jar of Vaseline out of our bathroom, wasn't it?" 

Jamie nodded. 

"Well, I think you might have asked us first." 

"We'd better make sure he doesn't put it back," Zoë said. "Not after he's been messing about with it." 

"I expect by the time we've finished on Marinus he'll have used most of it up." Victoria giggled. "Imagine the struggle he'll have putting those trousers on each morning." She gestured, as if pulling the breeches on herself. "'Oof... Oof... Creag an tuire!' And then he'd fall over." 

"He'd better take care not to bend over," Zoë said. "They'd probably split, and then we'd see something worth seeing." 

"You two'll be sorry if you get in trouble and you need me to rescue you and I can't because of these daft trousers," Jamie said. 

"Well, we won't, will we, Victoria? Just because we're women doesn't mean we can't look after ourselves." 

Jamie looked round thankfully at the sound of footsteps, and a few seconds later the Doctor joined them. Unlike the others, he had made no attempt to dress for the occasion; he was still wearing his scruffy jacket and outsized checked trousers. 

"Ah, there you are," he said. "Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed." 

"I hope that's just a figure of speech," Zoë said. "Doctor, do they have computers on Marinus? These holes in my card look as if they're meant to be read by a computer." 

The Doctor clasped his hands. "It's rather complicated," he said. "If they're using punched cards, that means we're probably a few decades into the post-Conscience era. Under the Conscience, you see, Marinus was unified, but after the Conscience was shut down it was every city for itself. A lot of technology was lost, but they gradually rebuilt it over time. So, yes, it's quite possible that your cards are designed to be read by some sort of computer — possibly a mechanical one." 

"How very steampunk!" Zoë said, with a delighted smile. 

"I could be wrong, of course." The Doctor checked a couple of instruments. "But we'll soon find out. We're on our final approach." 

"Doctor," Victoria said. "Are we really supposed to act only as observers? I don't understand why we would be sent here just to observe." 

"Well, I think I shall be justified in putting a quantum interpretation on that," the Doctor said, with a smile. 

"What's that, then?" Jamie asked. 

"Quantum mechanics states that observing anything inevitably changes it in an unpredictable way," Zoë told him. 

Jamie nodded. "Oh, aye." 

"I don't think he understood a word of what you told him," Victoria said. 

"Well, I'm sure he'll work it out sooner or later," Zoë said. "Maybe if we observe him really closely for long enough." 

She walked round Jamie, unashamedly ogling him. "You should come round this side, Victoria," she said. "The view's really something." 

"Doctor..." Jamie pleaded, as a giggling Victoria joined Zoë behind him. 

The Doctor shook his head. "Don't worry, Jamie. I'm sure they're only doing it to prove a point." 

"Can't they prove it somewhere else?" 

The hum of the TARDIS engines gave way to the familiar roar of materialisation, and the Doctor hurried over to supervise the landing. "They'll have to," he said. "We've arrived."


	2. Lady's Maid

The TARDIS had landed in what was obviously a rock garden, except that the plants all had reddish star-shaped leaves and the rocks seemed to be made of asphalt. A rose-tinted sun shone down from a pale green sky. The air was warm, humid, and had a faintly acidic smell. 

"Now where do we go?" Victoria asked. She looked around, and fixed her attention on a large building. "It must be there, mustn't it?" 

The Doctor nodded. "I think so." 

As they walked along the gravel path to the building, between more of the rock plants, it was plain that they were approaching a palace. In structure it was simple and symmetrical: a central block with two sweeping wings. 

"It's concrete, isn't it?" Zoë said. 

The Doctor nodded. "In basic structure, yes. The original building's probably from the Conscience era, and the fancy bits are newer." 

"And the windows? I don't think they look right at all. They're a completely different style." 

"Well, you mustn't expect architectural styles to be the same from world to world." 

"Incidentally," Victoria added, "you spoke out of turn then, Zoë. Remember that you are only a maid, and we are your betters." 

Zoë coloured, but couldn't deny the truth of what Victoria had said. "Very good, my lady," she muttered. 

"That's more like it," Jamie said, with a grin. 

At the gates of the palace, the four travellers presented their cards to two military-looking sentinels, whose uniforms were green with orange pinstripes. To Zoë's great satisfaction, their cards were indeed checked by a mechanical computer: an arrangement of clicking brass wheels, which smelt of oil. It seemed that the result was satisfactory, and the guards stood aside as a footman led them into the palace itself. The floor of the hallway they entered was polished stone, the walls painted in bright, angular designs. 

"The conference will commence shortly," the man said. 

"Then you'd better take us there right away," the Doctor said. 

The footman bowed. "At once, sir." 

"Zoë, you had better take my luggage to my room," Victoria added. "I shall call for you when you are required." 

"Very good, my lady," Zoë repeated. She found she couldn't look Victoria or Jamie in the eye; whether the danger was that she'd lose her composure, or that they would, she wasn't sure. 

⁂

It seemed that Katharia — that being the particular part of Marinus they were visiting — had a tradition of gender segregation. Accordingly, the Doctor and Jamie had been allocated rooms in one wing, while Victoria was in the other. Turnstiles at the entrances to each wing restricted access only to those bearing the proper punched cards. 

Summoned from the lower levels by means of a speaking-tube, Zoë ascended the back stairs and made her way to Victoria's bedchamber. 

"There you are," Victoria said. "I have just returned from the opening session. It was very interesting." 

"Do you think they'll come to an agreement?" Zoë asked. 

"It seems very difficult. The Peninsular Kingdoms have a number of long-held grievances. Their ambassador — Norsi — relates them at every opportunity." 

"Are they to do with the Drovo passes?" 

Victoria gave her a curious look. "You have learned that from the other servants, I presume?" 

"I didn't have much to do except listen to gossip." 

"You do now. You must help me change for dinner. And you should not sit in my presence." 

"Sorry." Zoë jumped to her feet and began to help Victoria out of her dress. "So what happened at this session?" 

"Argument, mostly. I cannot see any hope of an agreement while that man Norsi is part of the conference. But Zoë, I must tell you. One of the representatives — Taramos from the Yandis mountains — looks remarkably like Jamie. Or rather, he would look like Jamie were Jamie not wearing his false moustache." 

"It's lucky Jamie's wearing the moustache, then, isn't it?" Zoë paused in thought. "But how would the Doctor have known he'd need it?" 

Victoria smiled. "I find speculation on such questions is futile." 

⁂

"How was the dinner?" Zoë asked. She caught sight of Victoria's mock-stern expression, and hastily added a "my lady." 

"I am beginning to believe an agreement can be reached," Victoria said. She put her hand to her mouth, and let out a discreet hiccup. "Pardon me. We dined on the most lavish scale." 

"We got vegetable broth." 

"I am sorry." 

"It isn't your fault." Zoë helped Victoria out of her dress, and began to fold it, with more vigour than skill. "Did you and the Doctor do anything?" 

Victoria shook her head. "Very little. We made polite conversation. I suspected Jamie of taking naps between the courses. We were introduced to a number of dignitaries. The Doctor was keen that we should both be presented to Lord Altos and Lady Sabetha, who convened this conference." She yawned. "Have you my nightgown?" 

"Give me a moment." Zoë thrust the folded dress into a drawer, pulled out another drawer, and produced the gown. "Here you go." 

Victoria coughed gently. 

"Here you go, _my lady_ ," Zoë said. 

"It's fortunate that I'm a forgiving mistress," Victoria said, pulling the nightgown over her head. "Otherwise I would have been obliged to discipline you severely by now." 

Zoë couldn't help grinning. "Sounds like fun." 

"I very much doubt that." Victoria turned in her chair, and fixed her gaze on her supposed maid. "There something you wish to tell me, I believe." 

"How did you know?" 

"You have a very characteristic smirk when you have news to impart. What have you learned?" 

"Well... there's a monster in the building. Allegedly." 

Despite the lateness of the hour and the lavishness of her meal, Victoria sat up straight. "A monster? What kind?" 

"No-one's really sure. It's just gossip. They're talking about some sort of giant snake or dragon." 

"But there cannot be such a creature roaming this building unseen," Victoria almost pleaded. "The stairs. How could it ascend and descend the staircases without the guards noticing it?" 

"Maybe there are ventilation ducts. Or it could use the lift, if it's a bright monster. Have you seen the lifts here? I think they were electric at one time, but at the moment it's all done with hydraulics. There's a steam engine out at the back which pumps the water to an accumulator tower..." 

Victoria held up her hands. "I am not interested in how the lifts operate. I am more concerned about the monster." 

"You're worried it might come for you in the night?" Zoë looked around the room. "Suppose I put the sofa across the door. I could sleep on it, and if the monster came it would get me first while you escaped." 

"I might be asleep. Though the prospect presently seems remote." 

"I expect I'd scream a bit while it was eating me. That would give you time to climb out of the window." 

Victoria shook her head. "Your offer is a kind one, Zoë, but I fear the fall from the window would prove no less fatal to me than the monster. Turn the light down, go to your own quarters, and I shall see you in the morning. If I survive the monster." 

"But..." 

"That is an order, Zoë." 

"I think power's going to your head," Zoë said. She crossed to the gas mantle, turned its valve until its light was a mere glimmer, and departed. 


	3. Discord and Disappearance

"As you see, I got through the night," Victoria said. She was sitting before the fire in a hip-bath, soaping herself, while Zoë stood by with two heavy water jugs. 

"Yes," Zoë said. "But not everyone did." 

The soap shot from Victoria's hand; Zoë set down the jugs and hurried across to retrieve it. 

"Do you mean somebody has died?" Victoria asked, gripping the edges of the bath. "In their sleep?" 

Zoë held out the soap to her. "No. But Ambassador Norsi's disappeared." 

"Disappeared?" Victoria repeated. She resumed soaping herself, trying to concentrate on the mundane actions of bathing rather than wild speculation. "How?" 

"Vanished out of his room in the night. One of the valets said he thought he saw something creeping about in the corridor. Something like a giant snake. Of course, it would have to be giant or there wouldn't be room for it to swallow a whole person. Are you ready for a rinse now?" 

"What? Oh, yes." Victoria closed her eyes and leaned forward, as Zoë tipped one of the jugs over her head. 

"I think, if it is a monster, it must be a bright one," Zoë went on. "There wasn't any sign of forced entry — at least, according to Hakor —" 

"Hakor?" Victoria repeated, pushing her wet hair back. 

"My source. He's one of the footmen. Anyway, if the monster did kidnap the Ambassador, either it had a key to his room, or it can pick locks." 

"Either would be disturbing. Could I have a towel, please?" 

"Here." As Victoria rose from the bath, Zoë wrapped the towel around her. "You're sure you'll be all right today? You're shivering." 

"A draught, nothing more. I shall be with the Doctor and Jamie." 

"Well, take care of yourself." 

"That advice applies equally to you," Victoria pointed out. 

⁂

Zoë recognised the scream the instant she heard it. Even two floors away, the sound of Victoria in trouble was unmistakeable. She took the stairs at a run, but it was clear by the time she'd reached Victoria that she was too late to help. Victoria was lying in one of the smaller rooms off the main salon, surrounded by well-meaning delegates who didn't seem to have the first idea what to do. 

"Stand back!" she snapped at them, all thoughts of proper maidlike behaviour abandoned. Hastily kneeling beside Victoria, she felt for a pulse, and sighed with relief when she found it. 

"Has anyone got any water?" she asked the crowd. "Or smelling salts?" 

A confused murmur passed through the group, and a couple of dignitaries detached themselves from it, presumably to go in search of these things. 

"What happened?" Zoë asked, trying to make Victoria as comfortable as possible. There was no answer, so she repeated the question more forcefully, and added "Did anyone see anything?" 

"I was here first, I think," one of the representatives said. Zoë's memory supplied his name and affiliation: Refus, representing the city of Morphoton. "Miss Waterfield had already fainted. I saw nobody else, and did not pass anybody." 

A couple of other bystanders amplified his account, adding nothing new. While they were still recounting tedious and irrelevant detail, one of the delegates who had left earlier returned, a jug of water in his hand. He gave it to Zoë, who splashed a generous quantity onto Victoria's face. Victoria spluttered, groaned, and opened her eyes. 

"Zoë," she said. "It's taken the Doctor." 

"What has?" Zoë asked. "What happened?" 

Victoria sat up, and put a hand to her head. One of her coils of hair had come unwound, and now fell forward over her face. "The monster," she said. "I saw the monster." 

"What was it like?" Zoë said, leaning forward eagerly. 

"A long, crawling thing in segments. Like a gigantic centipede. It made a crackling noise. We were against the wall and had nowhere to run. I must have touched it, I think. I felt a jolt in my arm, and then I woke up here." 

She looked around at the group of dignitaries surrounding her. 

"Zoë, will you help me up?" she said. "I feel the need for fresh air." 

Zoë hauled her to her feet, with more force than grace. 

"Thank you." Victoria looked around at the group. "Please, do everything you can to find the monster and rescue the Doctor from its clutches." 

"A thorough search will be made," Refus said. But it was clear from his tone that he was humouring an excitable girl who had let her imagination run away with her. 

⁂

"You two shouldn't have gone wandering about without me to look after you," Jamie said. He'd run into Zoë and Victoria on their way to the garden, and had insisted on accompanying them. "If I'd been there..." 

"If you'd been there the monster might have got you as well," Zoë said. 

"Oh, aye, and I suppose if it had been you there you'd have done better?" 

"Probably. I usually do." 

Jamie's only reply was a scornful noise. 

"Please, don't let's argue about this," Victoria said. "Not with the Doctor missing and a dangerous creature roaming the palace." 

"About that," Jamie said. "How d'ye think it got to you and no-one saw it coming or going?" 

"All we know is that it didn't use the stairs," Zoë said. "Could it have been hiding in one of the rooms on that floor?" 

"Possibly," Victoria said. "But surely a search would quickly find it." 

"Ah, unless the room was secret," Jamie said. "You get that in old buildings. Hang on," he added, as they rounded a corner and a familiar police box came into view. "That's the TARDIS." 

Victoria raised her eyebrows. "Really? I would never have guessed." 

"But there's no point going there without the Doctor." 

"I know what I'm doing, Jamie." 

"Aye, but _I_ don't. How am I supposed to keep you two safe if you go running off all the time and don't tell me why?" 

"You could stop treating us like fragile flowers who can't go anywhere without getting into trouble," Zoë said. 

"Och, will you hark at yon biodanach of a lady's maid? Anyway," he added triumphantly, "we _do_ get into trouble wherever we go." 

Before Zoë could come up with a riposte to that, they had reached the TARDIS. Once inside, Victoria made a beeline for the laboratory. 

"I have a confession to make," she said, blushing prettily. "My earlier account of the monster was incomplete. I said I 'must have touched it', did I not?" 

"That's right," Zoë said. 

"I _know_ I touched it. With this." From her sleeve, she drew out a hairpin, identical to those that were holding her elaborate coiffure in place. "Look at the tip." 

Zoë and Jamie eagerly leaned forward, peering at the pin. 

"You're right," Zoë said. "That's definitely some kind of liquid or gel." 

Jamie nodded. "Monster blood. You'll have marked it for sure." 

"Let's get it under the microscope," Zoë said. 

Victoria, already preparing a slide, nodded. "That is the reason I wanted to come here." 

⁂

"Well," Zoë said. The laboratory, never very tidy, was in an almost chaotic state, with familiar and alien devices jumbled together on the workbench. "It can't be organic." 

"You mean it's not from any kind of beastie?" Jamie asked. "You're quite sure?" 

"Positive." 

"Then what is it?" 

Victoria glanced over the notes she'd been keeping. "Some kind of hydrocarbon gel, I think. Isn't that so, Zoë?" 

Zoë nodded. "Yes. Rather like that Vaseline Jamie's using to get his trousers on in the morning. Have they split yet, by the way?" 

"Och, these trousers!" Jamie's grimace was eloquent. "I canna see what people wear them for." 

"Because other people think they look smart," Victoria said. "That is how most fashion works." 

"That's true," Jamie said. "There's no other reason why you'd have worn a skirt half the size of Loch Lomond, is there? That was how she was dressed when I first met her," he added to Zoë, in a stage whisper. 

"We're getting off the point," Zoë said. "Assuming this sample did come from the monster — and I don't see where else it could have come from — that means the monster's using mineral lubricants. And that suggests it isn't a monster, but a machine." 

"You mean there's someone inside working it," Jamie suggested. 

"Precisely." 

"So that crackling..." At the memory, Victoria couldn't help a brief shudder. "That was some part of its mechanism?" 

"Perhaps a weapon. You said you felt a jolt when you touched it. That could be electric shock." 

Jamie appeared to be following his own line of thought. "If there's someone inside it, that'll be how they can work lifts and pick locks," he said. "The fellow inside just hops out and does his thing." 

"Of course, there'd have to be room for two," Zoë added. "One kidnapper at least, plus one victim." 

"Victim!" Victoria repeated. "Now we know the nature of the monster, we must return to the palace without delay and find where the Doctor has been taken." 

"While we're here, we should pick up some rubber gloves," Zoë said. "And insulated shoes." 

Victoria nodded. "Can you think of anything else that would help us, if we had to fight the monster?" 

"Och, that's easy," Jamie said. "Water. Just throw a bucket over it and all its wee circuits go short." 

"How do you know about short circuits?" Zoë asked, suspiciously. 

Jamie grinned. "I'm not as daft as I look. The Doctor's always telling me not to let electrical thingies get wet." 

"That makes a certain amount of sense, I suppose," Victoria admitted. 

"Also," Zoë added, "no-one could be as daft as you look with that moustache, Jamie." 


	4. Indiscretion and Impersonation

On returning to the palace, the trio, newly provided with rubber-soled shoes and insulated gloves, went their own ways. Appealing to the gentlemen who had assisted her earlier, Victoria received only bland reassurance. Nobody had seen any sign of the monster, and Victoria's pretty little head was to remain unworried. While Zoë, as she reported to Victoria after sundown, had been kept 'out of mischief' for most of the time. 

"They said something about the Voords making work for idle hands," Zoë said. "So they had me polishing silver and stacking plates and so on. I did manage to pace out the ground floor, and there's definitely a shaft of some kind right next to the room I found you in. Probably a lift shaft that everyone thinks is disused, only it isn't. It doesn't seem to have any obvious entrances — perhaps they're in the cellar. That's got to be how the monster could get up there without being seen. But I don't see why it would kidnap the Doctor or stun you. You're just observers." 

"Perhaps we were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time," Victoria suggested. "Suppose its target had been one of the other delegates — such as that man Refus. He might have been lured there, but we happened to enter the room before he did." 

"Why didn't I think of that?" 

Victoria patted her on the arm. "Nobody can think of everything, Zoë, try as they might." 

Further discussion was forestalled by a knock at the window. Victoria hurried over to it. Her face went pale, and her lips formed the word "Jamie!" Hastily, she unlatched the window and helped her fellow-traveller in. His swashbuckling uniform had been torn in several places by the climb. 

"I hope you haven't crept up here after dark to take advantage of Victoria," Zoë said. "You haven't brought her flowers or anything." 

"Oh, do be sensible for a moment," Victoria said. "If Jamie's climbed all the way up here it must be terribly important. What's happened, Jamie?" 

"I've seen the Doctor," Jamie said. "He's in one of the buildings out at the back. Where they keep those horseless carriage things." 

Zoë looked unconvinced. "The garages? You couldn't keep someone prisoner in there. People are in and out all the time." 

"Ah, there's an attic. The Doctor's up in there. So's yon other fellow, what was his name?" 

"Ambassador Norsi." 

Jamie nodded. "That's him." 

"And you've actually spoken to the Doctor?" Victoria asked. "What did he say? How are we to rescue him?" 

"He said to act normal and not to worry about him. We shouldn't interfere, he said. We're only observers here." 

"That sounds most unlike him." Victoria managed a weak smile. "Still, we at least know that the Doctor is safe and well." 

"If that's really what he said, what's the emergency?" Zoë added. "There wasn't any need to come and see us. You could have waited until you saw us tomorrow." 

Jamie looked offended. "I thought you'd want to know straight away. I didn't want you worrying." 

"That's very sweet of you, Jamie." Victoria hugged him, happened to look down, and gasped. "Jamie, your trousers really have split this time." 

"Och, it doesnae matter, does it?" 

"It most certainly does." Zoë walked around him, examining his torn clothes as an insurance investigator might survey a multiple-car pileup. "If anyone caught you like this you'd be sanctioned for indecent exposure." 

"It's that bad? I thought it was just a bit draughty." 

"That bad?" Victoria repeated. "It's utterly shocking." 

"Then we're sunk, aren't we?" Jamie backed against a wall, hoping to minimize the young ladies' exposure to the gaping hole in his trousers. "I can't go, because I'll be sanctioned or something. And I can't stay, because I'm not allowed in this bit of the palace." 

"There must be something we can do," Victoria said. 

Zoë looked around. "We've got some spare clothes in the wardrobe," she said. "If Jamie wore some of those at least he wouldn't be exposing himself all over the place." 

"You mean girls' clothes," Jamie pointed out. 

"Well, of course I mean girls' clothes. What were you expecting, a suit and tie?" 

"And," Jamie went on, "they'll not fit me. I'm bigger than Victoria." 

Victoria looked, thoughtfully, from Jamie to Zoë and back. "What about Zoë's uniform?" 

"She's even smaller than you!" 

"Yes, but I should be able to let it out a bit. Change into one of my spare dresses, Zoë, and then give me your uniform." 

"If anyone comes in now we'll all get sanctioned," Zoë said, obediently unbuttoning her dress. 

⁂

"Could you do a twirl for us, Jamie?" Victoria asked, trying to keep a straight face. Her hasty surgery on Zoë's uniform would certainly not have passed muster with an expert dressmaker, and she had had to take so much fabric from the skirt that it was now only just below Jamie's knees. She suspected, though, that any attempt to improve matters would only do the opposite, and waste time. "Yes," she said. "I think that will have to do." 

"He'll have to lose the moustache," Zoë added. 

"Oh, you look so much more like yourself," Victoria said, as Jamie peeled the moustache off. 

"You mean because he's back in a skirt?" 

"Zoë, behave! Now we've got to get Jamie out of here and... oh." 

Zoë thought for a moment. "Oh." 

"What's the matter?" Jamie asked, looking at their glum expressions. 

"Well, even if we get you past the turnstiles somehow, you're dressed as a woman now. So they won't let you into the men's quarters, will they?" 

"That's easy enough," Jamie said. "I'll away to the TARDIS and change." 

"That still leaves the turnstiles," Victoria said. "Zoë, you said they were some kind of computer. Does that mean you can hack into them?" 

Zoë looked as if she'd have liked to say 'of course', and couldn't bring herself to admit it. 

"I suppose I could try," she said. "Maybe I could fake up a new card for Jamie. Have we got any reasonably stiff card I can use for blanks?" 

Victoria dug in the wardrobe and produced a hatbox. "I think this is lined with cardboard." 

"OK, I'll see what I can do. Can I borrow your card? And the nail scissors?" 

With Zoë hard at work, Victoria turned back to Jamie. "Did you mean that? About going back to the TARDIS and changing your clothes?" 

Jamie coloured. "Of course I meant it. Why d'you ask?" 

"Because you won't look me in the eye, Jamie. You've got an idea, haven't you?" 

"Might've done," Jamie admitted. 

"Are you... You are, aren't you? You're going to try and rescue the Doctor." 

"He said we weren't to." 

"That doesn't answer her question," Zoë put in, not looking up from her work. 

Jamie waved his hand in exasperation. "You two sound like Justices. No, of course I'm not going to rescue the Doctor." 

"But?" Victoria asked, her guileless blue eyes fixed on him. 

"But he didn't say anything about the monster, did he? We can't allow yon beastie to wander round eating people." There was a flash of anger in his voice. "And it hurt you. It'll pay for that." 

"But it's dangerous!" 

"Zoë said we'd be all right now we've got these gloves, won't we?" 

Victoria and Zoë exchanged glances, and decided the only possible reply was "Oh, _Jamie!_ " 

"I shall go with you," Victoria added. 

Jamie shook his head. "It's far too dangerous." 

"You just said it wouldn't be dangerous," Zoë pointed out, with the satisfaction of one seeing a trap of logic snap shut. 

"Well, it won't be dangerous for me, because I know what I'm... and you're both..." Jamie tailed off; his argument, which had sounded so coherent in his imagination, didn't seem quite so watertight now he came to express it. 

"I shall go with you," Victoria repeated. "I shall take care not to let you out of my sight." 

"That's not fair!" Jamie brightened up as another point struck him. "And you've got to go to yon dinner tonight. If you don't show up they'll be looking all over for you." 

Victoria nodded. "This is true. But..." She paused in thought. "Zoë can go to the dinner in my place." She patted Zoë on the shoulder. "Cinderella, you shall go to the ball." 

"Do I get a say in the matter?" Zoë asked, putting the finishing touches to the identity card she was faking. 

"I don't believe Cinderella did." Victoria took her place behind Zoë, and began to pin her hair into the elaborate topknot that seemed to be the fashion of the day. "Don't fret: you won't be required to dance. Just eat and drink moderately, make polite conversation with your fellow guests, and, whatever the provocation, refrain from throwing them over your shoulder." 

"Has she ever done that?" Jamie said. 

"Once," Victoria said, at the same moment that Zoë said "Never." 

Jamie looked from one to the other. "Oh, aye? What happened?" 

"Nothing," Zoë said firmly. 

"I shall tell you later," Victoria said. 

"You mean when we're..." Jamie gestured vaguely at the door. 

"Precisely. Now, please let me concentrate, Jamie. I have to make Zoë into a lady. Or at least give her the appearance of one." 

⁂

Creeping through the yards at the back of the palace, Victoria wished, not for the first time, that she had gone to the dinner and left Zoë to keep an eye on Jamie. But Victoria knew that despite all Zoë's excellent qualities, her presence would not have acted as a suitable restraint on his actions. It might well have made them even more rash, if such a thing were possible. 

Abruptly, Jamie came to a halt, gripping Victoria's sleeve. 

"Up there," he said. "That's where they're keeping the Doctor." He fidgeted uneasily. "I reckon we could break him out, no trouble." 

"But he said we should not." Victoria thought about this. "If we released him, we would also have to release Ambassador Norsi, would we not? And if he were to be released, I believe the conference would fail." 

Jamie sounded conflicted. "This isn't right. You're saying yon monster's trying to _help?_ " 

"I think so. Maybe." 

"Well, it's got a funny way of doing things, that's all." Jamie paced to and fro. "Let's see if we can find where it goes when it's not stealing people. It's got to hide somewhere." 

⁂

Zoë set her empty glass down on the table. It was, she thought, very kind of Lord Altos or whoever was running this conference to make sure everyone's glass was kept topped up. And while she couldn't say she was wild about the taste, the wine was certainly making her feel comfortable and relaxed. And — she put a hand to her head — just a little bit dizzy. 

"Lady Miranda!" 

It took Zoë a few seconds to realise that Ambassador Refus was talking to her; she'd forged an identity card for herself under that name while Victoria had been doing her hair. It would hardly have done to attend a formal dinner as Zoë the serving girl, after all. 

"Lady Miranda, are you quite well?" Refus asked, concern on his face. 

"I'm fine," Zoë said firmly. "Jus' felt a bit woozy for a moment." She leaned back in her chair, feelings of warmth and bonhomie spreading through her. "Is there any more of that wine?"


	5. Day of the Dragon

In Jamie's company, Victoria had explored several cellars. This was one of the less terrifying ones; clean, dry and well-lit, free of rats or beetles, and hardly even any cobwebs. Despite all that, her heart was still in her mouth. What the cellar lacked in mundane vermin, it could almost certainly supply in electrical monsters. 

"Do be careful, Jamie," she whispered. 

Jamie, in her opinion, was showing off for her benefit. First he'd made a great show of following non-existent tracks, which he claimed had led him to this wall of the cellar. Now, he was running his hands over the blind arcading, searching for the secret door which, according to him, must be somewhere here. 

"Don't worry, lass." He flashed her a confident smile. "Now we know yon monster's got a weak spot, it'll give us no trouble." 

"Its weak spot is water," Victoria pointed out. "We have not brought any water with us." 

"Well, we couldnae lug it around with us all evening, could we? We'll just have to make sure we've got some before we need—" 

He broke off, at the same moment that Victoria let out a shriek. Jamie, it seemed, had been right about the presence of a secret door. A section of the arcading had swung back, revealing an area of the cellar plunged into near-darkness. In the shadows beyond the archway, a sinuous, metallic shape could dimly be made out: waist-high, broad in proportion, and at least fifteen feet long. A dim glitter of eyes was visible at the nearer end. 

"That's it!" Victoria was crouching behind Jamie, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "That's the monster I saw." 

Jamie looked around, as if hoping that somebody might have left a bucket of water to hand. But this area of the cellar contained only neatly-stacked dustpans, brushes and brooms. For want of anything better, he rose slowly to his feet, picked up a broom, and advanced on the monster. Victoria, still with her hands on his shoulders, kept close behind him. 

"Now," Jamie said, as they came within feet of the monster. "Let's be having you, then." 

He extended his broom and gave the monster an experimental poke. It made not the smallest reaction. Two more pokes were met with the same indifference. 

"It must be switched off," Victoria whispered. She pulled on her rubber gloves and approached the long, low shape. As her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark, she was able to make out the details: the bronze, articulated plates that covered the creature, the bulbous eyes that must surely be made of glass, the rubbery skirts that concealed whatever wheels or tracks it had to run on. 

"Hey!" Jamie was beside her, prodding at something on the monster's back. "D'you think that's a trapdoor?" 

"Jamie, please don't..." Victoria began, but before she could get further the hatch in question had sprung open with a _click_. 

"We can get inside!" Jamie proudly announced. Before Victoria could protest, he had scrambled up onto the creature, and lowered himself through the hatch. "There's all sorts of controls in here," his voice added. 

"Jamie, please, come out of there. What if someone comes?" 

"Och, that'll be his lookout, won't it? I'll just fill him full of yon electricity stuff." 

Victoria groaned inwardly. "You don't know how to work it." 

"Can't be too hard. The Doctor does this sort of thing all the time. So does Zoë." Clicks and clanks could be heard from inside the monster. With an ominous whirr, its eyes began to glow. 

"Jamie, this really isn't—" Victoria paused for a moment to listen, then spoke with renewed urgency. "Jamie, someone's coming!" 

"You'd best hide in here, then, hadn't you?" Jamie said. 

"Oh, _Jamie_." Victoria let out a sigh. "Very well, but first switch off whatever you presently have switched on. I would prefer not to be electrocuted whilst climbing aboard." 

A few moments later, she had successfully crawled aboard the creature, and had wriggled feet-first into its cramped rear compartment. Lying prone in that stifling, cramped tube, it was difficult to hear anything from outside, and Victoria wasn't sure if she was hearing or imagining the approaching footsteps. 

At the sound of a voice just above her, she jumped. 

"You know your target?" the voice had snapped. It was a male voice, with the clipped tones of one used to command. 

"Yes, sir," another replied. 

"Then acquire him." 

A moment's pause, then a rattling as someone tried to open the hatch. It was all too clear that this was the monster's proper operator, and at any moment they'd be discovered... 

With a jerk that would have knocked Victoria over had she been standing, the monster lurched forwards. Its hum was all around her, and the sound of the latch broke off with a crackle — not to mention a gasp of pain from the person who'd been trying to open it.

"You'll no' be trying that again, will you?" Jamie muttered, from somewhere up at the front of the beast. "Now, let's be going... not that way, you daft beastie!" 

The monster cornered sharply, throwing Victoria against the side of her compartment. 

"Jamie, what are you doing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice low. 

"I'm trying to get us out of here." There was another swerve, a crash, and a jolt that almost shot Victoria forward between Jamie's legs — and that _certainly_ didn't bear thinking about. "It's no' as easy as it looks." 

_It never is,_ Victoria thought, bracing herself as best she could against the sides of the compartment. In the distance, she could hear the officer calling for guards; his temper sounded considerably worse than the last time she had heard him. Which was completely understandable, given his point of view. 

For Victoria, the thuds, crashes and jolts blurred into one sustained buffeting. It might have been one, five or ten minutes later that the monster came to a halt with a particularly violent bang. For a few moments, Victoria, feeling half-stunned, could not bring herself to move. Then she nerved herself to ask "What's happened? Where are we?" 

"We're definitely not lost," Jamie said, a little too firmly. "I'll just hop out and take a wee look around. Check a couple of things." 

Feeling too shaken to argue, Victoria left him to it. She heard nothing for a while; then she felt a definite upward acceleration, accompanied by the sound of rushing water. 

"Are we in a lift?" she called. 

"That'll be it, then." From the sound of things, Jamie was climbing back on board. "There was this wee lever thing on the wall, you see, so I pulled it." 

"Why?" 

"To see what it did, of course." 

Victoria closed her eyes. "Of course." 

⁂

"An' _that_ ," Zoë announced triumphantly, "is how we know the Axlerod of Choice is equiva, equivvy, is the _same thing_ as Zorn's Lemon." 

She looked around the table, noting with satisfaction the way she was holding the attention of at least half of diplomats. Mathematics was a fascinating subject, of course, and she was pleased to see that the people here appreciated it. Even though this was an alien world, and while they might have discovered the Axiom of Choice they certainly wouldn't have heard of Max Zorn. Or was it a human colony? It might be a good idea for her to find that out. Tactfully, of course. 

"Someone else's turn now," she said. "Who knows a lot about history?" 

The diplomats exchanged uneasy glances. Zoë decided they knew they wouldn't be able to compete with her brilliant lecture, and were worried about looking second-rate in front of her. Still, they'd just have to do the best they could. 

"History is a somewhat broad subject," Ambassador Refus eventually said. "Was your ladyship interested in any particular—" 

With a crash, the door at the end of the room flew open. Moving, perhaps, a little slowly and uncertainly, a hideous, bronze-coloured dragon, fifteen feet long, glided into the room, crackling and humming with dangerous power. Its scales gleamed in the gaslamps, and a flickering light burned in its eyes. 

The diplomats jumped hastily to their feet. A couple of the younger men looked around for some kind of weapon; another picked up his chair, as if to fend the creature off. 

"Don't worry," Zoë called, but no-one seemed to be paying attention to her. She tugged at Refus's elbow. "I know its vulnerulnerable spot." 

"Please, my lady, keep back," Refus urged her, leading her to the far end of the table. "This is no place for a defenceless young lady such as yourself." 

Through the haze of alcohol, Zoë glared up at him. "Don't you dare call me incapable." 

Before he could react, she darted forward and snatched up a tureen from the table. It contained some kind of fruit juice, halfway between soup and syrup, which the Marinians appeared to take as a palate-cleanser between courses. Turning away from the table, she found her path blocked by the milling crowd of diplomats and their consorts. 

"Get out of my—" she began, decided that the time for talk had passed, turned back, and clambered onto the table. She could see a flash of bronze scale from the far end, and staggered down the tabletop towards it, the tureen clutched in both her arms. Glasses, dishes and cutlery were sent flying beneath her feet. At one point she slipped in a fish pie and nearly lost her footing, but managed to recover with no ill-effects other than spilling a quantity of syrup down the front of her dress. The end of the table was fast approaching, and as she reached it, she triumphantly skidded to a halt and hurled the contents of the tureen over the humming, crackling monster. To the accompaniment of a sound like frying bacon and a cloud of black smoke, the dragon shuddered and ground to a halt, the light in its eyes fading away. Zoë punched the air in triumph, overbalanced, and tumbled to the floor, dragging the tablecloth and its contents down on top of her. 

⁂

"Jamie?" Victoria called. From inside the dragon, she'd heard only crashes, screams and other chaotic noises. Then there had been a blue flash, a horrible smell of burning, and the vibration of the machine had abruptly ceased. Worse, she could feel sticky liquid dripping onto her from above, and she couldn't free herself of the conviction that it was blood. "Jamie!" 

"Just a mo." There was a shuffling noise, then a rattling as he tried to open the hatch. "I think it's stuck..." The clang of metal. "Creag an tuire!" 

The hatch flew open. In the dim light, she could see Jamie's silhouette as he clambered out, then leaned back to help her out. She barely had time to notice that he, too, looked as if he had blood running down his face; and then she was clambering out of the hatch. She turned, and found herself looking at five dozen ambassadors, ministers, consorts, plenipotentiaries and functionaries, plus a young woman trying to extricate herself from a tablecloth. For a few seconds, there was silence. 

"Victoria," Jamie said. "You're bleeding." 

Victoria put a hand to her cheek. "I don't think so," she said, and looked at her fingers. "No, this is syrup." 

"Someone threw syrup over us?" Jamie nodded. "I think I can guess who, too." He pointed at the tablecloth, from which Zoë's head was now protruding. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. "Zoë, did you do this?" 

"Well, obviously I did." With the tablecloth still draped around her, Zoë managed, after several attempts, to get to her feet. "How was I to know it was you two inside?" She gave them a bright smile that verged on the idiotic. "Everyone was running round like headless chickens and I saved the day. _And_ I've been the belle of the ball. It jus' shows you the power of having a trained mind." She grinned again, took a step forward, and collapsed in a giggling heap. 

"Oh dear." Victoria hurried forward. "Jamie, whatever are we to do?" 

Jamie shrugged. "Put her in the brig until she's sober, I suppose." 

"I'm not drunk," Zoë protested. "I never get drunk. And anyway, it's 'Put her in the _airlock_ till she's sober.'" 

"It's no such thing. Ben taught me yon song, and it's definitely a—" 

Before Jamie could finish arguing his case, the doors swung open to reveal an officer seemingly on the verge of apoplexy, accompanied by a number of extremely unamused-looking guards. 

It was clear that Zoë wasn't the only one about to be thrown in the brig.


	6. Hasty Departure

"How are you feeling now?" Victoria asked. 

With a groan, Zoë lifted her head from Victoria's lap. "Worse." 

Victoria raised her eyebrows. "Worse? Five minutes ago you told me you were afraid you were going to die!" 

"And now I'm afraid that I won't." Zoë clutched her head. "I wish Jamie would stop snoring. It sounds like a sawmill." 

Victoria glanced across the cell to where Jamie lay peacefully stretched out on his bench, his eyes closed. "Zoë... he's not snoring." 

Zoë's only answer was another groan. Victoria stroked her hair, and tried not to think of what trouble they might still be in. Though it gave her no comfort to guess at the rules they had broken and the punishments such behaviour must attract, she couldn't stop thinking of it. A vague memory drifted through her head, of the Doctor mentioning that on some parts of Marinus, people accused of crimes were guilty until proven innocent. Was that the case here? And, in all honesty, would it make much difference? 

The cell door opened, with a bang that woke Jamie from his slumber and elicited an agonized moan from Zoë. Two guards in their green and orange marched into the cell, followed by the reassuring figure of the Doctor. 

"Doctor!" Jamie exclaimed. 

"Jamie. Victoria. Zoë." The Doctor pulled out a crumpled handkerchief and wiped his forehead. "Oh, my giddy aunt. What have you three been doing?" 

"We didn't do anything wrong," Jamie protested, jumping to his feet. 

The Doctor shook his head. "According to these gentlemen, you impersonated a diplomat, climbed into a lady's room at dead of night, disguised yourself in female clothes, presented a false identity, took and drove away a military vehicle without permission, and several miscellaneous morality offences." 

"Oh." Jamie looked taken aback for a moment, then recovered. "What d'ye mean, impersonating a diplomat?" 

"By not wearing your moustache. I gather several of the party believed you to be Taramos. The real Taramos isn't at all pleased." 

"Well, maybe I did some of it," Jamie admitted. "But what else was I supposed to do?" 

Zoë raised her head. "Keep quiet and do what the Doctor told us. Was that so very hard?" 

"It was for you," Jamie pointed out. "Look at the mess you made of yon banquet. I bet you've got a charge sheet as long as my arm." 

"Jamie's quite right, I'm afraid," the Doctor said. "Impersonation, forging identity papers, and aggravated public misbehaviour. And I'm afraid, after some of the things you said to the ambassadors, they've withdrawn their delegations." 

"D'you mean she's broken the whole peace conference?" 

"Yes, Jamie, I do. And there's no need to grin like that. You and Victoria are in just as much trouble." 

Victoria blushed. "I expected as much. I suppose I am also charged with stealing a military vehicle." 

"And public lewdness, I'm afraid." 

"Oh." Victoria felt her heart sink further. "What is to be done to us?" 

The Doctor wiped his forehead again. "I've persuaded Lady Sabetha that you were acting with the best intentions. She's prepared to pardon you — provided that I then escort you from the premises. And don't let any of you come back." 

"About time, too," Jamie said, jumping to his feet. 

Victoria helped Zoë up, and joined Jamie by the door. "But I don't understand," she said, as they marched out. "You were kidnapped by the monster. Who was behind that?" 

"Well." The Doctor gave their guards a cautious look. "It wouldn't do to name them. Let's say, a group that were very keen for the peace conference to succeed. They removed Ambassador Norsi, and then they kidnapped me." 

"Were you their intended victim?" Victoria asked. "I wondered if they had mistaken you for somebody else." 

"I think you could be right. After all, I was just a harmless observer." The Doctor shook his head. "Then again, so were you three, and you managed to wreck the conference without even trying to." 

"I'm sorry," Victoria said. 

"Well, why'd the Time Lords want to send us here in the first place?" Jamie asked. By now, they were in the outer hall, with the turnstile ahead of them. "If we'd not come..." 

"If we had not been here, a treaty would have been signed," Victoria said. "Surely, our presence has made matters far worse." 

The Doctor shook his head. "That depends on what the treaty would have been. Maybe this treaty would have stored up trouble and grievances for future generations." 

They were through the turnstile by now. As they emerged from the palace into the sunlight, Zoë groaned and shaded her eyes. 

"How are you feeling?" Victoria asked her, in low tones. 

"Rotten," Zoë said. 

Jamie smirked. "Serves you right." 

"Jamie, that's not kind," Victoria said sternly. 

"Aye, but it's true." Quietly, under his breath, he began to sing. "What do we do with a drunken Zoë, What do we do with a drunken Zoë..." 

⁂

The bath Victoria had taken, on her return to the TARDIS, had been a long and leisurely one. By the time she returned to the twin bedroom they shared, Zoë had already arrived, and had changed out of her bathrobe into pyjamas. 

"How are you feeling now?" Victoria asked. 

Zoë paused in thought. "Better. Except now I can remember everything I did at that dinner. I was such an idiot." 

"We can't all be right all the time." Victoria put an arm round Zoë's shoulders. "After all, mistakes are how we learn." 

"I'm not supposed to make mistakes." 

"And it is unlikely in the extreme we shall ever return to that world." 

"There is that." Zoë looked up at her friend. "Are you feeling OK now?" 

"A little bruised, perhaps. But much better." She smiled. "And it is a great relief to me that I no longer have that syrup in my hair. It was most uncomfortable." 

"Sorry." 

"I cannot blame you. You were doing your best." 

Zoë shrugged. "For what good that was. I hope I do better next time, that's all." 

"Oh!" Victoria put her free hand to her mouth. "Zoë, I nearly forgot to tell you." 

"Tell me what?" 

"While you were... indisposed, the Doctor received another message from the Time Lords." 

"Oh." A nervous look crossed Zoë's face. "Did they say anything about what we did?" 

"No. Simply that we have another assignment. Tomorrow we shall travel to the world Angel One." 

Zoë half-closed her eyes. "It doesn't ring a bell." 

"That's understandable: The Doctor said it was founded many years after your time. It is ruled by women, and men are seen as property. Or perhaps slaves: the Doctor was uncertain on the matter." 

"You mean..." A slow smile was spreading across Zoë's face. "We'd be in charge of the other two?" 

"Zoë!" Victoria, despite herself, could feel an answering smile on her own face. "It isn't funny." 

"No." Zoë turned away, her shoulders shaking. "It's very serious." 

"I think we had better go to bed," Victoria said firmly. 

"Of course." 

Victoria almost left it at that. But in the end, she couldn't resist the temptation. 

"Is it all right if I have Jamie for my slave?" she asked, as they climbed into their respective beds. "Or must we toss a coin for him?"


End file.
